This Week in Milford

September 25, 2021

Where Were You the Day The Bucket Got Its Liquor License?

teenchy here. Dunno where robmize is. I’ve got a busy afternoon and evening ahead of me so I’m not gonna wait any longer and put up a double post. I’ll be traveling next weekend so hopefully rob, or Ned, or tdrew can cover for me then. Heck, maybe even timbuys could pop back in for a cameo. (Tim, you out there bud? Miss you here in the rotation.) Anyhoo, on with the show.

September 24, 2021

No clue who Chance’s blocker Gordon Achebe is IRL (any relation to the famed author of Things Fall Apart?) but Kimberly Gordon-Achebe is Program Director of the University of Maryland Child and Adolescent Psychiatry Fellowship and consultant of the Programs for Assertive Community Treatment (PACT)-child division.  There was a Gordon Achebe on the team last year, but he looked a little different back then. This year’s Gordon isn’t about picking sides in a QB controversy but more about covering for his triple-threat backfield teammate, Chance Macy.

Chance has been around since 2019 so we really shouldn’t be learning much of anything new about him. He lives with his grandparents; his parents haven’t been in the picture and he doesn’t hold them in high regard. He has (or at least had) anger management issues. He got plenty of exposition during that season while Chet Ballard tried to smear him to win his stepson some playing time and his love.

Heather was in Iowa while all this was happening, so it’s news to her. Maybe she should take that superfluous finger off her temple and use it to Google some of Marjie’s old articles from the past two seasons before she decides it’s news for Star readers. Off to The Bucket for postgame festivities…

September 25, 2021

… and a surprise appearance from Kianna Bello, who apparently had back-to-back sports practices but got to catch the Mudlark football game. Guessing volleyball practice came first; there’s no way Mimi would schedule an event that conflicted with Gil’s! No, Mudlark sports reign supreme, and Mudlark football reigns the supremest. It doesn’t take an Alexa Watson to figure out that Kianna will be dropping gymnastics quicker than you can say “I’ll take my Bucket Daiquiri in a go-cup, please and thank you.”

Passed out face-down in a booth isn’t a good look on a star athlete. Either learn to hold your liquor or stop burning the candle at both ends. All that’s missing from this amusing scene is a puddle of drool coming from Kianna’s mouth.

September 23, 2021

And Here To Tell You All About It, Gil Thorp.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 3:58 pm

Gang, back in the ’80’s when the Atlanta Braves had the broadcasting team of Ernie Johnson, Skip Caray (yes, Harry’s son) , Pete Van Wieren, and John Sterling, they would broadcast in pairs of two, in various and random combinations, the first duo broadcasting on radio, then by the fifth inning broadcasting on TV, the other duo doing exaxtly the opposite. Say it’s Ernie and Pete on TV (then Skip and John would do the radio) . And say Ernie was doing the intro in the inning, again any random inning. He would briefly talk about what had transpired in the game, some odds and ends, then say “And now, here to tell you all about it, Pete Van Wieren”. To which Pete would reply with “Thank you, Ernie. The Braves have some work to do here in the 3rd inning, down 8-1 to the Cubs…” And that format was the case with any of those duo combinations I mention ( “And here to tell you all about it, John Sterling.” “Thank you, Skip. Boy, the Mudlarks have a lot of work to do, down 50-16 here in the second quarter against Oakwood…”) .

And with today’s strip rearing its ugly head with Heather Burns, why were we not surprised.

“And here to tell you all about it, Coach Thorp.”

“Thank you, Heather. We still have a lot of work to do with that Delaware Wing T-“

“Sorry, Coach, gotta talk to Chance. He may be a renegade but at least he’s radio-friendly.”

Coach, you reap what you sow. As Jesus said in Matthew, if you ask for a fish, would you expect a stone? What did you expect when you tolerated her flipping off the soccer coach and still practically put her on your staff, Heather to return with any gratitude? I may pull Benedict Arnold out of a shark pit but I’m not holding my breath in the unrealistic hope he doesn’t bolt for England (He’s a national hero in the same country, BTW) . Yeah, this one’s turning on you and all you can utter is basically “Oakwood sucks”. To quote Ralph in Happy Days when he tells Potsie “If you had a brain, you’d be dangerous” and Potsie responds “Oh yeah????”, good comeback.

Gil, your jock strap is hanging out on this one. You have allowed a sniveling snot to keep sniveling, perhaps dreaming that she one day will do the right thing. Well, we all saw what happened to Gil’s Pizzaria in the same movie. She didn’t even have the dignity to order a pizza to pay towards the damage. Okay, she ruined the anchovy machine but she could have ordered pepperoni. Basic and simple. But courtesy and respect and knowing what you’re talking about is a graduate-level course at Milford Community College to Heather. You’d be better off restocking your Cola cooler case after you’ve replaced the damaged Cola cooler. That one is refreshing and has taste.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Several Customers Miffed After Gil’s Pizzaria Severely Damaged Due To Rioting In The Streets Of Milford!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Dr. Pearl: ‘Does this mean the business will not be empowered to cater our wedding anniversary? My husband is gravely disappointed.'”

On a random telecast

“…and here to take you the rest of the way, here’s Skip.”

“Thank you, Ernie. Boy, this plot has already gotten off to an inauspicious start. What a revoltin’ development. Even as I speak, Heather is already assuming more responsibility than she has a right to expect. In fact, if Gil Thorp lasted 120 years instead of 60, Heather would be nuked out of existence. But first things first, we still have to figure out where to get a spade shovel to knock some sense into Coach Thorp’s head for even hiring her in the first place.”

RIP, Skip Caray. You were witty and knowledgeable and made Braves Baseball fun to watch.

And talk about freak hands, something our staff and readers frequently talk about and with good reason, does Gil have leprosy in P1? No way he’s ever going to score a hole-in-one with one hand not able to grip even a sponge. He’s not going to win too many Milford City Men’s Golf Tournament’s with an arm as thin as a cue stick. Shoot, he probably wouldn’t win ANY dart tournaments at Milford Pub. Better guard your beer glass when he’s up to throw. Don’t leave your behind out in the open while you’re talking about the Duke-North Carolina match-up. Talk about watching your backside literally. If he’s pitching softball, it might not leave the pitcher’s circle.

And what the heck is this cardboard cut-out of a school building in the background? I have long criticized the tree artwork but the trees actually look like trees today, unlike the gigantic canvas that can be seen from somewhere in Iceland. I wouldn’t be surprised if planks are keeping this structure from falling over into Uganda. Thorpiverse, if you’re going to draw school buildings, we’d appreciate it if it didn’t resemble Ayer’s Rock or the highest point in Oklahoma. Nobody has scaled this structure and stuck a flag down in the name of their country or state. Not yet, anyway.

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Upset Over Gil’s Pizzaria Incident!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“I was looking forward to getting my MVP trophy at the Milford Adult Flag Football League Banquet.”

And Heather is picking up where Marjie Ducey left off as Heather is diligently licking Chance’s cleats. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we never see Will Wash Gil’s Jock Strap For A Story ever again. Goodness, Heather is doing enough butt-kissing for both of them. And I’d never thought I’d see the day when she went from shameless brat to Marjie’s toady. What’s ironic is how she is brazenly shuffling Coach Thorp to the side. Yeah, heck with you, Coach, I’ve got some genuflecting to do with Chance.

And Heather, you’ve coached yourself (insert sarcasm) , you ought to know better than to broadcast the game plan to Valley Conference opponents. As Nick Saban, Alabama’s famed coach who’s kept the Tide’s championship ways running at a brisk pace, once responded when a reporter asked what offense he was going to run against the upcoming opponent, Northern Colorado, “Why don’t I just send their coaches my God damn playbook!!!!!!!!!!!” Heather, why don’t you send the routes Chance is going to run to next week’s opponent? Heck, you should be able to get to the FedEx station by the 11:00 deadline. When it absolutely positively has to be sent to New Thayer the next day, what a commercial jingle. Expound upon the Mudlark’s defensive schemes? It’s bad enough that you’re licking Chance’s cleats but don’t sleep with the enemy nor lick his or her boots. I wouldn’t put THAT past you but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.

“So Coach, what are you planning to do next week?”

“Hell, Marty, why don’t I send Goshen the whole goddam Delaware Wing-T offense!!!!!! I’ll write it on 3×5 index cards and catch the next UPS truck heading out of town!!!!!!!”

“Coach, I was talking about Heather’s sexual harassment suit against you.”

At the Mudlark gym

“…and here to tell you all about it, Ernie Johnson.”

“Thank you, John. Well, there isn’t much to tell. Milford Girls Basketball only plays 5 games. I haven’t seen it this empty since I pitched for the Milwaukee Braves and we blew the ’58 Series to the Yankees.”

Heather Burns has the longest butt this side of the Northern Hemisphere. You could make a surfboard out of her body structure in general. How would she poop on a toilet? She’s SOL if the commode isn’t wider than the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone. “Get your butt down here” is a pretty ambitious order. Remember that bumper sticker mantra, “Get your heart in Dixie or get your ass out?” It might require 2-3 days to get just her gluteus maximus per se out the region.

Whattup with Chance’s shoes? They look like Certs tablets. I wouldn’t kick Heather in the butt with them there lozenges. Rise up and walk is another ambitious order. And there’s the trees. They were lovely specimens in P1 but part of a weather front in P2. You best end this interview quick, Burns. It’s already clear that you’re a flunky who sends smoke signals to Valley rivals. They’re about to get rained on. And you’re all wet anyway, no sense in rubbing it in.

Special Edition to the Milford Enquirer

“Milford Police Continue Investigation Of Gil’s Pizzaria Incident Despite Sketchy Details!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Bobby Howry’s glasses were discovered behind the counter but Howry was in Utah at the moment of the crime.”

“And here to take you the rest of the way, here’s Marjie Ducey.”

“Thank you, Marty. Marty, before we go on, would you like a Scope tablet? Your breath could use some refreshment. It smells like those gym shorts that get stuck in the Lost and Found hamper for months.”

P3 is where we get down to the nitty-gritty of all that’s transpired at this point. Basically my inspiration for today’s post. And Heather Burns just walked in a pile of cow manure on this one. She herself having coached (insert sarcasm once again) should know “There’s no ‘I’ in the word ‘TEAM'”. So when she approaches Chance with a “You’re The Way, The Truth, and The Life” mentality, she really undid all she accomplished as one of Gil’s assistants (swallow your pride and print that, T. Drew) . Ah, but when did that ever stop this mercenary from going forward and running over her grandmother to get a story? Look what she did with Gil. She will stop at nothing to dig up dirt about a huckster on the links or back away from the soccer team even though she really had no discipline and needed to own up to that. But that’s Thorpiverse for ya. Bark at people when you need to be put on a permanent leash.

Thank Heavens Chance is reading right through that and having none of some smart-mouth jerk and her officious mannerisms. Take a number, Ms. Burns. And you could use a Scope tablet yourself. Deferring to the ones who protect him shows the class Chance always had and that Ms. Burns never had. But you’ve heard me say that before. Good.

And knowing Heather, she’ll come across to Gordon like “I know you opened the holes but that won’t sell on the Film at 11 and you didn’t score so thank you for your time. Where’s Coach Thorp? Maybe I can get something interesting. I’ll settle for Coach Kaz is Coach T. went home.”

Hang in there, Gordon. You only have to put up with her at the end of the night.

Continuing my utter disbelief with discreet packaging for male enhancement products AND with a Latin phrase book that wrote a disclaimer prohibiting unlawful reproduction of the material, seriously doubting that there’s an illegal ring in the sleazy part of Milford distributing undercover Latin dictionaries and Latin comprehensive quote books

One night at bedtime at the Shaw household

” Honnnnneeeyyyyyyyyyy, I’m hornnnnnnnyyyyyy. It’s time to come to bedddyyyyy-byyyyyyyyyyy-uh, um, Honey, why is the den stacked to the ceiling with Latin dictionaries?”

“Pipe down!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You want the neighbors to hear you!!!!!!!!!!!! Then they’ll call the police!!!!!”

Mrs. Shaw whispering

“Why do you have several Latin phrase books all over your gun rack?”

“I am going to make a killing selling Erectile Dysfunction medicine to all the disgruntled men out there. But I gotta be discreet so the police don’t find out. So I stick the tablets in these Latin dictionaries and phrase books and no harm, no foul.”

“Darling, won’t that get you in jail?”

“Not if I do this right, Mrs. Shaw. I just have to be there at Milford Pharmacy when they throw the excess medicine in the dumpster. I have to get there before lunch break or they will eat their Big Mac’s while the garbage truck drives away.”

“But why not just send them as is? The pharmacy doesn’t sound like they care.”

“Woman, I ain’t taking any chances!!!!!!!!! What if Joe Friday and Bill Gannon were parked out in front of my house? They ain’t exactly out there because they want to know the meaning of Alea Iacta Est.”

“Honey, why don’t you Carpe Diem and seize my body? That would be a lot more fun than stashing pills in an envelope marked Ad Captandum Vulgus.”

“Shoot, I can do better than that. I got a box with several Latin phrase books with plenty of horny products infiltrated between the pages that I’m sending to the inflicted males at Milford Luxury Condo Suites. The code name is Per Ardua Ad Astra. That’s right, ya gotta rip it open if ya wanna reach the stars. The condo security will never know the difference.”

“Actually, I like Sic Semper Tyrannis because I’d love for you to get tyrannical with me.”

“No way, Woman!!!!!!!!!! There’s money to be made and plenty more Latin literature online to make it. Labor Vincit Omnia and the only time sex comes before work is in the dictionary. Now get outta my face, I have a package to send to the all the lifeless gentlemen at Milford Senior Center. You know how many x’s are in Vox Populi, Vox Dei?”

DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mrs. Shaw opens the front door

“Shaw residence?”


“Officer Williams with the Milford Police. One of your packages was found in the middle of the road. Did someone in your household write with a magic marker Quieta Non Movere?”

“Whew!!!! That was a close call!!!!! My trunk must have jarred open when I hit that speed bump while rushing off some more packages. But it was time to get my own sex life on Terra Firma and to possess a Firma Significant Other to match. With proven treatment programs at Milford Men’s Clinic that have stood the test of time, you need to get your gluteus maximus down to the Clinic and really know the meaning of Homo Erectus. You’ll be glad you did.”

No, Gang, Pete Van Wieren never broadcast with Marty Moon. I would have recognized that goatee when the Braves were playing. What a revoltin’ development. But God bless you anyway, Gang.

“…and here to take you the rest of the way, here’s Mimi Thorp.”

“Gil, come to bed.”

At Gil’s Pizzaria

“Now what are gonna do?”

“Hey!!!!!!!! I got it!!!!!! The Bucket sells Canadian bacon pizza!!!!!!!!”

September 22, 2021


So much for that breather! The Mudlarks slow things down so much that night turned into day. Milford scores 13 more points after switching from the vaunted Delaware Wing-T and hangs half a hundred on Oakwood. It’s a wonder Tod Andrews (that is Tod, innit?) isn’t giving Gil a piece of his mind for running up the score on his hapless Owls.

Up in his crate, Evil Spock Marty gleefully calls the game. No doubt he believes Marjie Ducey’s departure to warmer pastures has cemented Milford’s status as his town. Marty had better keep his head on a swivel, though, since Heather Burns is on the scene quicker than you can tweet #radioisadyingmedium.

Heather’s thumbs are quicker than Marty’s lungs, and her approach to sports reporting is fresher than Shane Beamer’s postgame presser after the Georgia-South Carolina game. She’s got no time for Gil’s old man football coachspeak; she’s off to track down the man of the hour, Chance “Don’t Call Me Blowtop” Macy, and give him a squeeze.

Careful where you grab Chance, Heather: five years’ age difference might not mean much to the cruisers at Barney’s Pub (speaking of Evil Spock Marty) but when it’s a recent high school graduate and a high school senior, well, let’s just say it’s not always looked upon kindly.

September 21, 2021

Calling Games From The Port-A-Pot, A New Concept In WDIG Broadcasting.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:51 pm

I mean, seriously, why ELSE would Marty Moon be standing? That must have been one heckuva taco salad and queso dip he ordered at the concession stand before the game. The innards started kicking in right about when the Delaware Wing T was doing the same and his intestines were getting just as excited as the crowd. Well, he couldn’t miss the action but he couldn’t hold off Mother Nature forever, hence the denouement in P1. Taking a dump and Chance streaking down the sideline, I’m tellin’ ya, Marty is the luckiest man alive.

Us old-timers are still waiting for Marty to lay into Coach Thorp’s (remember “Coach T.”?) Delaware T schemes, calling it, say, Underwear T schemes, and our getting a big laugh out of Moon’s incessant second-guessing of anything Gil does. Getting the water bottles filled with water? Coach T., why didn’t you fill them with Gatorade? The tailback ran out of gas at the 1-yard line and a healthy dose of Wild Cherry ‘rade would have completed the deal and the score. Patting the defensive tackle on the fanny because he missed a sack on the quarterback? Coach T., patting him on the head will keep you from being hit with sexual harassment charges. You want to face Chet Ballard after you swiped Charlie Roh on the tush? At a school board meeting after you got Marjie “A Sniveling Snot Took My Job?” Ducie to whip everybody in a frenzy after Chet raided the Milford High School files? Nope, better pet him like Dino, Fred. Letting two quarterbacks essentially create an unnecessary quarterback-by-committee that spilled over into volleyball matches? Coach T., you need a tighter rein on things or you’re going to see Bastille Day being staged right in front of The Diner. Two guys who let their wee wee dictate their relationship with somebody who got exiled out of town by her mother, not the kind of stuff you desire if you want to start La Revolucion or coach a football team. Vive Le Milford.

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“O.J. Upset Over Remarks By Dickie V. At Milford Adult Flag Football League Game!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“He can say Trifecter all he wants but I scored 4 touchdowns. Do the math.”

The artwork continues to impress. I can make out a couple of humans kibbutzing the match while Marty is in labor from that Bucket Triple Decker he devoured shortly before kickoff but is that a conehead in the stands? Does he have somebody on the team? I pity his kid if he has to shoehorn a helmet on his skull. They might have to employ a crowbar. And I love the blank face accompanying ol’ Conehead. I love watching some Mudlark fanatic cheering his or her fool head off when the visage is a dead blank. Like the artist used a gum eraser and went for a coffee break and forgot to fill in the details when he added Coffee Mate. I couldn’t even imagine Gil on the sideline with that Mt. Everest of a hairdo and the face resembling the snow on your TV screen. If Blank Face Fan has a “Kick The Shit Out Of Oakwood” or “Gil, The Delaware Wing T Sucks” or “Only Wussies In 3rd Grade Football At A Sandlot Somewhere Use The Delaware Wing T”, we’ll know he’s cheering for Milford.

Who’s the other Blank Face by the sidelines who is standing by what appears to be no barrier separating the football field from blank coneheads, this particular Blank Face also indulging in a healthy helping of picking his butt? Any takers?

And would somebody send another roll of toilet paper up to Marty? He seems to be struggling with depositing those Bucket Fries.

If ya use pin oak leaves to wipe yore be-hind cuz the outhouse janitor neglected ta fill th’ tawlet paper dispenser agin, ya might be a redneck.

Then we are introduced to another personality who belongs in the Port-a-Pot whether she has to go to the potty or not. And Dickie V. she is not. More like Hadley V. who is moonlighting as a crack reporter. Is she going to call Boyd Spiller a Diaper Dandy? He needs diapers but he is far from being a dandy as his failed attempt at Transcendental Meditation at the bonfire can attest. And God, Heather V., I’m gonna retch if you call Milford Mudlarks a Rolls Royce program. With Coach T. at the helm? I’ll settle for Volkswagen Jetta. Is Tevin Claxton on your All-Windex team? Heather V., how do you rebound a football? Yup, Charlie Roh cleans the glass with that run up the middle and leaves the goal posts shiny by the time he spikes the football in the end zone. There’s devil in the details but who cares, he scored. Rolls Royce reporting, Heather V.

And is that really Heather V. anyway? We wouldn’t know, the same artist who draws fans who scratch pimples in their butts has also cut Heather V.’s face in two. As if she was as bald as Dickie V. and just didn’t want to come clean. Sure, Mr. Artist, puh-leeassse don’t show all the lice crawling on her scalp. We have an image to protect. Just let us use our imagination and we’ll assume that is, indeed, Heather V. and that she needs toilet paper like Marty Moon after eating that Bucket Chimichanga while texting the wonders of the Delaware Wing T. Again, the devil is in the details but that’s been one huge devil since Heather returned. We’ll cope during football, anyway.

Speaking of Dickie V., despite his occasional butchering of the English language (“trifecter” comes to mind) , I do like him as a broadcaster. He’s very knowledgeable, having coached high school, college, and pro basketball (won two State Championships as a high school coach) . That said, I liked this one quote about him when Sports Illustrated ran an article on him. The writer said that Dickie V. could be in Storrs, Connecticut for Big Monday in a game between UConn and Pitt with Dickie V. shouting “Charlie Roh and Chance Macy, the number one combo in America, Bay-Byyyyyyyyyyyy”, then head to Big Wednesday in Fayetteville, Arkansas in a game between Arkansas and Missouri with Dickie V. shouting “Terry Rapson and Will Thayer, the number one combo in America, Bay-Byyyyyyyyyy”. The writer concluded “Dickie V., you’re the biggest homer since Mantle dominated Yankee Stadium”.

THE BLOB RETURNS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You better watch out, Heather V., you could get your Trifecter phone swallowed at any time. And this The Blob is mad as Gil and not gonna take any more. The one cheering fan looks like he is honestly cheering but the other one is in a serious pursuit of jumping jacks. Hard to tell but I going with my gut. The one with the Mudlark cap has to be what Pruneface looks like when a silhouette graces his presence (Aw, c’mon, no way Pruneface would be wearing a Lakers hat at a Mudlark Footgame contest) . Then there’s Mr. Prudential Rock and Two-Way Head. I wouldn’t think the latter would be tilting his head 180 degrees from the game. What would he be looking at in the distance? Elvis in a UFO? Again, going with my gut. But overall, it looks like a well-attended game even if The Blob is dining on a few patrons. Aaaa, fun at the old ball park as Harry used to say.

Heard on WDIG

“Coach Thorp and Coach Kaz, the number one combo in America, Bay-Byyyyyyyyyyyy”

Heard in the background

“Dickie V., when I get off the pot, so help me…”

Uh oh. Are we going to let off the gas pedal in P3?

It’s a debate in kids sports and sports in general. You don’t want to run up the score but teams that seemed hopelessly behind have come back and won. And I have been on both ends of a blowout as a coach and when you’re losing, you really have no choice but exhort your kids to keep competing, though that can occasionally be a challenge. Getting stomped is no fun. But I have been on the winning side of a rout and THEN the challenge is not to get several fingers pointed at you from the team’s other coaches. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Again, the challenge is to keep your kids motivated, knowing when to call off the dogs, and to be classy when the game is over.

P3 reminds me of the 1992 game between Indiana University and LSU in the NCAA Basketball Tournament when Shaquille O’Neal was playing. Shaq was just DOMINATING and Bob Knight and his Hoosiers had no answer. They were up several points and appeared to be on the brink of blowing it wide open when Dale Brown inexplicably yanked Shaq out of the game. The commentators were in utter disbelief and Bill Walton point blank said “That’s bad coaching. Ya gotta deliver the knock-out blow.” Much as I have always deeply respected Dale Brown as a coach, Walton was right. And IU stormed back and eventually won. Ouch. I traveled through Louisiana later in life and the fans still talked about that game (interchanging between that and the 1994 Kentucky meltdown) .

So when Frick and Frack are easing off the throttle in P3, I cringe. What are they going to do, grind it out and if the defense doesn’t tackle the first time, give them a chance to catch up? Maybe bang the football off Spiller’s butt and let Oakwood recover for a fumble recovery. Heck, let Boyd run with the football like when the Bears let The Refrigerator run it in for a score. That’ll slow things up and keep the game moving. And you still have your foot on the gas pedal, not that I really suspect Frick and Frack to possess that as a strong point. I believe in sportsmanship but don’t give the game to the other team in the name of good will. I’ve never known too many opponents that would return the favor. Just saying.

“Folks, I have to take a major piss. Somebody call me and notify me whether the Mudlarks recovered the onside kick. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

September 20, 2021

Call It Milford Blue

Filed under: actual action, Colorist Error, football, Oakwood — nedryerson @ 3:20 am

More Oakwood action!

Tevin Claxton’s throwing motion looks a little odd. The Milford helmet behind him is also odd. It turned Oakwood Blue. I guess someone defected because they didn’t like sloppy joes and cleaning up after massive bonfires (of inanity).

As Gil predicted, it’s turning into the Chance Macy Show. He’s got a receiving touchdown and is breaking loose for a long punt return. It’s probably a score, but we’ll find out more tomorrow.

This blistering pace is wearing me out. I think I’ll go back to bed.

September 18, 2021

Minor Threat?

Filed under: actual action, big arms, football, Highlight reel, Oakwood — teenchy @ 6:53 pm

All action today with little dialogue to snark, so let’s get all Heather Burns-y and study the film.

P1: Where is #32’s thumb? It’s possible to carry the ball without one, but it’s a little awkward. Oakwood’s defender has Kaiser Wilhelm arms.

P2: Is the Mudlark blocker holding? Looks like he’s got a hand on that Tarheel Owl’s shoulder. The ballcarrier looks to be running into the block just the same.

P3: Chance Macy’s mailbag’s gonna get a lot smaller – and his calls to the office fewer – if he keeps toting that rock like that. Even those scrawny defenders will be able to strip that.

Today’s post title a nod not only to Chance Macy but to a longtime fixture on the DC punk scene.

September 17, 2021

Oakwood is chanting Kill Gil!

Filed under: actual action, football, hideous scar faces — robmize2013 @ 10:05 pm

I dont know about you, but a bonfire/pep rally isnt exactly the time to roll out the visualization techniques. Boyd still gets the throng wound up, and its on to the game, where the QB steps on the running backs foot, causing a fumble on Saturday for sure.

September 16, 2021

Band of Clueless Gypsys.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 1:41 pm

No, no, say it ain’t so, Gil. What started out as an out-of-control bonfire has converted into Hendrix and Miles, live at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater. And okay, I’m willing to stomach “Machine Gun” and “Red House”, classics in their own right, but then Boyd Spiller stepping to the mike is like “Stone Free” being played at fever pitch, then that lunkhead lineman from North Dallas Forty taking the stage, bragging how Hendrix and Miles outperformed The Kinks. Yeah, buddy, we whupped ol’ Brian Jones’ butt and the rest of them sissy Stones. I am what I am, thank God. Boyd paraphrasing “Message to Love”, will inspiration never cease.

Boy, don’t you think we’re getting this plot off on the right foot, what with Hendrix at the mike in P1, performing at Isle of Wight once again, only the glow of the concession stand getting burned to the ground appearing in Hendrix’s face? How many truckloads of firewood did it require to mastermind this fait d’accomplait???? I can only imagine Gil negotiating with Milford Lumber Yard on the total count in the name of school spirit/rock concert atmosphere.



“Lumber Yard.”

“Yeah, is this John?”


“Were you able to get that extra truck? Cuz they’re gonna get loud and rowdy after Buddy leads in a frenzy on ‘Them Changes’. I’d rather the kids burn firewood rather than Dr. Pearl’s SUV or my tackling dummies.”

“Yeah, but the foreman says I gotta charge extra. 100 bucks per additional load.”

“We’re within budget. We just need one more load.”

“That’ll work. I can get a man to work overtime. You want it this afternoon?”

“Fine. Have him drop it off by the school bus with the flat tire.”

“You still want that extra load for The Stampeders concert?”

“Nahhh. Nobody’ll burn down the hot dog stand over ‘Sweet City Woman’.”

Today’s Headline in the Milford Enquirer

“National Guard Troops Called In During Hendrix Jamfest At Milford Outdoor Amphitheater!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Neighborhood associations flooded the switchboard out of grave concern during the performance of ‘Machine Gun’.”

And is that really a fire glowing off Jimi’s face in P1 or did Tropical Storm Gilberto come blowing in out of nowhere? You really, truly want me to answer that? And who the heck gave Tevin Hendrix a Divine Right to the Stage? While he was laboring with Joe Bob (Frank, excellent, excellent) on the reserve team last year, we were dealing with two other lunkheads contending for the starting QB spot and Corina’s pants. Is this some kind of Mudlark tradition, even if you’re a stooge who lets his significant other drag him around everywhere, you still have the floor, not to mention the stage, even if it’s The Rainy Season? With the way this plot is commencing with Jimi validating tradition by practically contending for Kianna’s pants, well, as Jimmy Buffett once crooned, I don’t know where I’m gonna go when the volcano blows.

And I remember the great Johnny Unitas at a restaurant with one of his teammates, offensive lineman Alex Sandusky (no lunkhead by any means, BTW) , and this kid comes up to Unitas asking for his autograph. Unitas, never missing a trick and showing why he was great, responded “Sure, but that’s Alex Sandusky and he protected me for several years and helped win a Super Bowl. Get his autograph too.” I appreciate Tevin performing a Unitas but do we have to get Joe Bob’s autograph and his display of his intelligence? Because I get the this sick-gut feeling both are going to be egregiously intelligible. Not that I’m complaining.

But Mark Twain was right, it is better to be silent and look like a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubts. Boyd is about to put those rumors to rest. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, craps like a duck, yeah, I’d say he’s a duck and a fool. The way he’s been crapping and walking, he’s shown no signs of being Einstein or a rhinoceros. Don’t count on his delivery of the Gettysburg Address for this Mudlark Moment. Jackasses or jackrabbits are not noted for uttering “Four score and seven years ago.” Tevin, I think you should have left Joe Bob back at the restaurant. Let him eat his steak and crow in peace.

Dr. Pearl in her office, serenely playing “Electric Ladyland” off of her 1931 RCA Victrola







“Lovey-Dovey Sugar Plum Honey Melon Sweety Tweety Twinkie Winkie Yabba Dabba Doo, you still wish to be an emergency bridge partner? Because the other guy still has to work the forklift at Milford Foundry.”

P2 reminds me of “Smoke on the Water” by Deep Purple. It burned down the Mudlark House. I’m broken-hearted.

The song was created based on a true story. Deep Purple was rarin’ to get started on recording what would eventually be Machine Head (“Highway Star”, “Lazy”, “Space Truckin'”) and strongly desired to record at the highly-demanded Rolling Stones Mobile Recording Studio (Rolling Stones recorded there chiefly for the privacy and the casino fun next door) , part of Montreux (Switzerland) Casino, a posh upscale combo gambling casino, concert hall, and hotel.

Frank Kappa and his Mothers of Invention (“…and the Mothers would have the best place around…”) were performing there when towards the end of the show, when the frenzy had reached fever pitch (Zappa concerts had that quality) , somebody in the audience, very likely out of overexcitement, shot a flare that hit the rattan-covered ceiling that easily caught fire (…some stupid with a flare gun/burned the place to the ground…”) . Fortunately, nobody was seriously injured, thanks in large part to long-time Jazz and Rock promoter Claude Nobs (“…Funky Claude was running in and out/pulling kids out the ground…”) , whose quick thinking engineered the escape for its fans and averted a major disaster (“…burned down the gambling house/it died with an awful sound…”) and the ensuing nasty lawsuits. People lived to tell about it.

STILL, Deep Purple had nowhere to record. And they were understandably pissed. They were able to procure a place after several flailing attempts that only brought run-ins from the neighborhoods where they recorded plus the police as the music was extremely loud and consequently was disturbing the peace (although they had ALWAYS taken issue with anyone calling them a Heavy Metal band) . They tacked on “Smoke on the Water” after Roger Glover, DP’s bassist, saw smoke on Lake Geneva from the fire in a dream. Ian Gillian, lead vocslist, ran with it from there and wrote a masterpiece. The song became their trademark, unwittingly in certain cases as they thought their fans would think this song a bit of a tall tale. But every word was true. That’s what made it a chart-buster, a grim reality that was a reality.

As for the culprit, Zdenek Sticka, a Czech refugee, he high-tailed it out of Switzerland and was never caught.

But at the rate the artwork is going, you’d think the smoke from Lake Geneva is still lingering and traversed The Pond and reached Gil and Rock ’em Sock ’em Jaw. Geez, look at those clouds lurking in the background. A bonfire and a burning casino turns out that kind of cumulus output? I thought there was only one flare gun, at least that’s what the lyrics said in the liner notes. Gil and Kaz can save some money and bypass Milford Tanning Clinic after tonight’s pep rally. And that’s before Bluster Boyd spews his hot air to the Milford faithful. Then Gil might have to get treated at Milford Minor Emergency Center for char-broiled hair.

And their sitting in the stands while their faces are being deluged by a heat lamp along with the rest of the corn dogs and pork fritters at the Milford 7-11 is another annual example of the inmates running the prison. Gil, you’re the coach. You should be leading the charge, not being a human DQ Brazier Burger while someone who hasn’t even played one second of varsity runs the program. Did anyone honestly ever go to The Sands in Vegas and wait for Frankie to perform only to have the janitor who changes all the towel dispensers in the bathrooms get up and play “New York, New York” on his song flute? The line cook handling all the poultry in the kitchen sing “In The Wee Hours of the Morning”???? They’re fainting in the aisles even as I post.

I remember when a biopic on a made-for-TV special showed Mrs. Sinatra constantly standing in front of the camera, saying how proud she was of Frankie and that she knew he would one day make it big. Finally, the director blurts out “Mrs. Sinatra, would you PLEASE get off stage!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”.

Not that I am implying anything about Boyd Spiller. Heaven forbid.

After all the ‘Larks are in their boxes

And the Gils have all gone to bed

You can hear foolishness all in this story

Dullness we all dread

And the wind cries


“Cut. Great take, Shaw. Okay, let’s do lunch.”

Gil and Kaz ARE YOU SERIOUS???? Coach B.A. Strothers of the North Dallas Forty would have a coronary if Joe Bob got up on stage and led all the cheering. Gil and Kaz, think about it, Joe Bob with pom poms and dancing with the cheerleaders chanting

Two bits

Four bits

Six bits

A dollar

All for ending this farce

Stand up and holler

Okay, I slightly altered the ditty but do you see my point? Someone with an IQ of one of the logs burning in the conflagration is up on stage leading the Israelites out of Egypt? Someone who thinks Red Sea is a property in the game of Monopoly? Let’s not even imagine a foot race, from an intellectual perspective, between him and Moose Mason. They might drown in the Red Sea because they think Moses was raising his arms to apply Ban Roll-On. You’re basing your opener on comments made by a smartass who really is more ass than smart? Thank God mental incapacity doesn’t reek (yet) like B.O. or they might have to ship a truckload of Right Guard next to the truckload of logs they dumped. We really don’t need the Jerky Green Giant rallying the troops, especially when he’s no mental giant.

But you and Kaz go right on basking under the heat lamp. The corn dogs should be crisp in an hour.

At WDIG Recording Studio

“Delaware Wing T will blow your mind

Even a jellyfish will tell you that-“

“CUT!!!!!! Shaw, your drummer’s going to have to keep up.”

We finally get to P3 and this is about as big of a letdown as I can remember. To put it in perspective, being a U2 fan, I thought the performance of U2 when tbey were about to embark on “Gimme Shelter” and then Mick Jagger comes out of nowhere to provide the primary vocals was about as electric as all get out. Still gives me chills. But it’d be like U2 playing that mind-numbing riff before Boxcar Willie jumps on stage attempting to duplicate Mick. Boxcar would give it the old college try, no question, but in the long run he needs to stick to K-Tel Records.

But that’s what we have on our hands as Boxcar is leading the charge trying to use hypnosis on us. Boxcar apparently has been reading too many Zig Zigler pamphlets. Zig helped me with his ideas and “seeing the reaching”, i.e. thinking positive when setting goals always influenced me but Joe Bob the Slob a/k/a Boxcar Joe Bob in his endeavors to put people to sleep to improve their mental powers at a campfire while munching on S’mores so that they will be in a better frame of mind by Homecoming really isn’t cutting it as a storyline. Peter Lawford stepping in to replace Mick who’s sick with the flu might still not overpower you on “Gimme Shelter” or “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” but I really can’t visualize Joe Bob the Boxcar giving a convincing performance on “Sympathy for the Devil”. You think K-Tel Records would go for that?

And then there was the Erectile Dysfunction commercial where ED medicine was advertised as being delivered in discreet packaging. Like what’s INDISCREET packaging????

One fine Saturday afternoon at the Thorp household, “Penny Lane” heard somewhere in the background

DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Keri Thorp opens the door

“Thorp residence?”


“Sweetie, I’m from UPS. Would you sign right here so that your daddy can get this box?”


Mimi races out of the bathroom after battling diarrhea

“That’s okay, Keri, let Mommy handle this one.”

She signs for the indiscreet box

“You have a nice day, Mrs. Thorp.”

“You do the same.”

Gil shows up after taking a nap

“Oh great, my package has arrived. Let the good times roll!!!!!!!!!!”

“Mommy, what is Honest John’s Hard ‘n’ Fast Clinical Syrup?”

“Keri!!!!!! Not out loud!!!!!!!!!!”

“It’s okay, Keri. Sometimes Daddy has problems loving Mommy and needs some Vic’s Vapo-Rub to get him loose in bed. Sometimes you need Gatorade if you want to rise to the occasion.”

DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mimi rushes to the door

“Thorp residence?”

” Yes.”

“I’m the regular guy on your mail route and I have a piece of certified mail I need you to sign for. It’s from Male Enhancement Chemistry Worx.”

“Damn!!!!!!!! You guys came through again!!!!!!!!!! I’ll be brandishing the sword tonight with the dragons!!!!!!!!!!!! I like their slogan “If you work hard and play hard, we’ll make it harder.”

“Gil, not in front of the kids!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Here, here’s my signature. Thank you.”

“Oh Honey, lighten up. Eventually they’re going to learn the birds and the bees. And sometimes when a bee has trouble getting his stinger working, he needs a booster shot like these Proctor & Gamble Comfortably Numb Saf-Tee Enforced Injection Needles I ordered through FedEx. They’re EPA-approved. One shot and I got rid of the measles, mumps, and limpiness. I can fly like a butterfly and sting like a bee and not have chicken pox. That’s piece of mind when we’re rollin’ on the river.”

“Mommy, I’m going to stick one on my wee wee so my Oscar Meyer Wiener can be numb and hard just like Daddy. I bet everyone will be truly in love with me.”

“Jaime!!!!!!!!!!!!! Don’t you dare!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Gil, put these things out of sight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I will not have my kids seeing these items in public!!!!!!!!!”

DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hi, we’re from WDIG and Beyond Male Expectations Herbal Medicines listed this household as the 1,000,000th customer. Is the man of the house at home?”

“Did I want the world to know I had Erectile Dysfunction? You know the answer to that. It was time to man up and head down to Milford Men’s Clinic. With treatment programs that are clinically effecrive and make you a man when you leave the building, isn’tcit time you got your butt down to the Clinic and faced the facts. You’ll be a better man if you do, literally. Come solve your ED and get the life you deserve today. You’ll be glad you did.”

No, Gang, that is not Billy Cox in P3. He played bass with Hendrix, remember? Boyd can’t even play football, let alone play an instrument noteworthy of the Band of Gypsys. Maybe hold Buddy Miles’ drumsticks. Aaaaaa, never mind. But God bless you anyway.

At WDIG Recording Studio

“With the power of Gil

Anything is possible

With the power of Gil

Anything is possible”

“CUT!!!!!!!!!! Shaw, listen to what you’re saying!!!!!!”

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